


deep into that darkness peering

by darlingargents



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Bruises, Canon Compliant, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rough Sex, Somnophilia, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: Neil in the Raven's nest.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Riko Moriyama
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Red Team





	deep into that darkness peering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shudder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shudder/gifts).



> Title from The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.

i.

The drugs don’t stop him from noticing.

Neil is pulled into sleep by painkillers, night after night. They don’t kill anything close to all of his pain, and he wakes up in the morning dry-mouthed and hurting, every inch of him battered or broken. Over and over. Closing his eyes doesn’t make the nightmare end.

One night, he dreams of running through the endless hallways of the Nest. The black and red blur and reform around him and the red turns to blood, running across the black marble floor. He slips on it and cracks his head open, and the blood from his head is fox-orange, the brightest colour there.

He wakes up to Riko panting above him, and — well, even as messed up as his head feels, he’s pretty sure he understands what he’s feeling now. Stripped bare and being fucked, Riko’s hand shoving his head sideways into the pillow, cutting off half of his airway. He can’t move, can barely twitch a finger. His eyes won’t open.

Somehow, Riko must realize he’s awake. The hand on his head knots in his hair and pulls him up, setting his head on fire with pain. There’s bruises all over his face, a tender and bloody spot on the back of his head that Riko is tugging on. A pained groan escapes his mouth, and he manages to crack his eyes open.

“Play better today, Butcher,” Riko says, and drops him. A spike of pain hits him like a hot knife and he bites down on his lip until it bleeds to stop from screaming. His body is starting to wake up. The pain from Riko fucking him is starting up.

“Good boy,” Riko says, and distantly, like it’s disconnected from his body, Neil feels himself come.

ii.

The fifth ball cracks against his helmet within the first twenty minutes of practice, and for a brief, wild moment, Neil loses it.

He drops his racquet and runs, every wound on his body telling him to stop, and slams both his hands into Riko’s chest. Riko actually stumbles back; he wasn’t expecting it. Neil’s head is screaming, but he’s pretty sure he’s not making a sound as he reaches for Riko’s neck.

Hands close around his arms and pull him back as he reaches out, trying to grasp any part of Riko he can. His little act of defiance didn’t do a fucking thing; Riko adjusts his jersey and grip on his racquet, and calls out for another ball. He won’t even look as Jean and some others pull Neil away.

Nothing he can do will crack Riko’s shell. That’s all he wants to do: he wants to break Riko open. Take him apart, weigh his organs, put him back together. Find out how he works.

Riko doesn’t look as Neil struggles painfully against Jean’s grip. The racquet is shoved back into his hands and he throws it, furious in a way he can’t even articulate. Riko seems to hear the clattering racquet and looks Neil right in the eyes.

Neil opens his mouth to scream.

iii.

Sometimes Riko wants him awake.

Neil doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking for, those times. Memories of what he had with Kevin, or someone that will fight back, or something else unfathomable. Neil doesn’t care, really. He lets himself be handcuffed to the headboard and laughs when Riko asks what will happen if he sticks his dick in Neil’s mouth.

“I’ll bite it off,” Neil says, expecting a punch or cut. He gets a laugh. Either tonight will be relatively gentle or much worse than usual. No way of knowing yet.

As it turns out, it’s not really either. Riko goes hard, because of course he does. Neil’s wrists are jerked back and forth, a ring of bruises sinking into his flesh, and he can feel Riko’s hands on his hips bruising him there as well. It hurts, but in a way that almost loops around to good, or at least satisfying.

“You’re a pretty good slut when you shut that fucking mouth,” Riko says, and Neil closes his eyes and lets Riko finish inside him. He doesn’t jerk off after Riko uncuffs him, almost as a matter of pride, and is starting to get dressed before Riko notices. He pushes Neil down and jerks him off, perfunctory, mechanical.

It leaves stains on his black pajamas and sheets, but at least that’s not Neil’s problem.

iv.

Neil starts coughing up blood at some point. He doesn’t know how long he’s been or how much longer there is to go; the days are blending together, the only passage of time the colour of his bruises and the rattle in his lungs.

The rattle is becoming dangerous, maybe. He stares down at his palm, the dark red blood splashed across his black fingerless gloves and the pale skin of his fingers, dripping onto the black floor.

He’s so fucking tired.

He’s been in the bathroom for long enough. Jean is waiting. He wipes his bloody hands across his jersey — there’s already blood on it, he’s sure, he’s had his nose busted open at least a couple of times already — and puts his helmet back on. Mouth guard in.

If he sprays it with blood, well. He’ll deal with that if it happens.

v.

“You only have two days left,” Riko says, the words pulling Neil up from a dream of foxes chasing him through the streets of Baltimore. Half-awake, Neil blinks at him through sleep-crusted eyes. Riko is smoking, cross-legged and barefoot on his bed, and the smoke is aggravating the death rattle in Neil’s chest. He still wishes Riko would offer him a smoke. “When are you going to sign?”

Neil shrugs. “When you give me a good enough offer.”

Riko rolls his eyes. Neil tenses, expecting — he doesn’t know. A heavy object thrown at his head? Riko moving fast as a viper to put out his cigarette in Neil’s eye? A knife sinking into his thigh, hopefully avoiding any major veins? — whatever it is, it doesn’t happen. Riko just keeps smoking as Neil sits up slowly and painfully, stretching out as far as he can before black spots start to crowd into his vision.

“I was told I should break all your fingers if necessary,” Riko says, casual. Neil stops breathing for a moment. He wouldn’t be able to hold a racquet, he wouldn’t be able to do anything — he’d be a sitting duck. “Luckily for you, I don’t want your signature if I can’t  _ earn _ it. You’ll see that this is your place. I know you will.”

Neil imagines spitting in his face, crushing Riko’s playing hand under the heel of his boot. He closes his eyes and lets the smell of smoke lull him into a feeling almost like safety.

Distantly, Neil hears Riko stand up, the bed springs creaking faintly. He keeps his eyes closed as he feels Riko get closer.

The tip of Riko’s cigarette sinks into the flesh of his inner arm.

Neil bites down until he tastes blood, and doesn’t scream.


End file.
